


Drastic Measures

by ORiley42



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Everybody Ships It, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Matchmaking, Olga Knows All, Tabitha is So Done, assassins trying to be helpful, unexpected nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 17:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ORiley42/pseuds/ORiley42
Summary: Barbara can’t take another second of Ed and Oswald’s mutual pining, and so decides to do something about it – Butch is roped into helping, Olga joins willingly, Zsasz and co. are thrilled to be part of it, and Tabitha is wondering when she gets to kill somebody.





	Drastic Measures

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of love to [irisbleufic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic), whose wondrous depiction of Olga in [When You Find It, Run](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10605213/chapters/23448291) deeply inspired the Olga in this story!

"This is pathetic," Barbara declared, setting down her champagne glass with a decisive clink.

"Us sitting here, picking out table settings for a mayoral dinner? Yeah it is," Tabby agreed, sounding even more sullen than usual as she flicked a nearby napkin with her pointer finger.

"No, I meant _them_.” Barbara jerked her chin towards Penguin and his chief of staff, who were sitting just a little too close together on the couch across the room. “Dancing around each other, clearly smitten, but too dumb to do anything about it.”

Tabitha made a vague noise of assent.

“I don’t think I can take any more of it,” Barbara continued, crossing her legs neatly, “So, I guess we’ll just have to do something about it.”

Tabby dropped the knife she’d been twirling idly with a clatter and turned to glare at Barbara. “ _What_?”

“I don’t know exactly what yet,” Barbara replied, unperturbed by Tabitha’s murderous expression since she woke up to it every morning when their alarm went off, “But we’ll have to do it soon, or their lovesickness might spread.”

"Why would we want to do anything to meddle in their...their _personal_ lives?” Tabby spat out disdainfully, “What's in it for us?"

"Well, for one thing, we won't have to watch _that_ anymore..." Barbara gestured in the direction of the two men, who were both trying so hard not look at each other as they went over paperwork together that it seemed physically painful.

"If you want _that_ to stop, it would be faster to just shoot them,” Tabby pointed out, sensibly.

"Also messier, and we _just_ had that carpet cleaned," Barbara countered.

Tabby made a face like she was weighing their cleaning bill against the pleasure of getting to fire the gun that had been itching on her thigh ever since Nygma’s smug face had come through The Siren’s doors – and it didn’t look good for their carpet.

"We have to do something,” Barbara finally added, “because they'll be much easier to manipulate if they’re all jumped up on the endorphin rush of new love."

"Or they'll be stronger together," Tabby posited, crossing her arms stubbornly.

"Maybe. But not everyone's like us Tabby..." Barbara reached out to stroke one delicately painted fingernail down Tabitha’s forearm, "not all couples complement each other as well as we do.”

Tabby grunted and relaxed her posture slightly, which Barbara translated as something close to a smile in Tabby-speak. 

Butch chose that moment to approach, plonking himself down in a stool next to Tabitha and reaching to pour himself a glass of the nearest available liquor.

“God,” he groaned, “If I never hear another thing about the politics of seating charts, it will be too soon.”

“You’ll be _wishing_ you could be talking about seating charts in a minute,” Tabby said, “After you get sucked into Barbara’s latest plot.”

Butch shot a sharp look in Barbara’s direction as he asked in a low voice, “What the hell are you up to?”

Tabby reached out to grasp Butch’s shoulder firmly as she broke the news, “Babs has decided to play matchmaker.”

Butch’s expression was stuck on quizzical until he caught Barbara’s gaze flicking over to Ed and Oswald across the room, then he blanched and whispered, “Oh boy.”

“Yeah,” Tabby agreed.

“Butchie, dearest,” Barbara simpered, “can you honestly tell me that you don’t see the little cartoon hearts floating around their heads whenever they’re together?”

When Butch didn’t disagree, Tabitha rolled her eyes. “Really, Butch?”

“Sorry, Tabby, but...you should've seen the way they looked at each other the night of the election. It was kind of...creepy, honestly.” He shuddered lightly at the memory.

“Then we’re agreed,” Barbara grinned, clapping her hands together, “something must be done, and the three of us are going to be the ones to do it.”

“No,” Tabby said, simply. Barbara accepted this statement with a graceful nod, and turned to Butch, “Okay, the two of us.”

“Hey, now,” Butch held up a hand, “I don’t remember agreeing to –”

“The two. Of. Us,” Barbara bit out. Butch slowly lowered his hand.

“And the first step,” Barbara continued, cheery mood back in place, “is to get our two lovebirds in the mood.”

“I already hate everything about this,” Butch said, fear in his eyes.

“Not _that_ mood – a _romantic_ mood. Thinking about love and relationships and all that stuff,” Barbara fluttered her fingers as Tabby reached under the bar and grabbed the first bottle her fingers touched.

She poured herself a shot and then offered the bottle to Butch, who took the whole thing and hugged it close to his chest as if it would protect him from Barbara’s scheming.

Butch took a deep swig before asking, “So, how do we do that?”

“Simple. You go have a chat with Eddie and test the waters, so to speak. See,” Barbara gestured with her glass, “I _know_ Ozzie. It’s Mr. Cheekbones over there who’s the wild card. Does he even do relationships? Is he afraid of commitment? Does he have an ex we should be worried about coming out of the woodwork and messing things up?”

Butch’s eyes began to glaze over and Tabitha repossessed the bottle of liquor.

Barbara snuck a glance over her shoulder and saw Ed step away to take a call, leaving Oswald alone on the couch. “And here’s the perfect time to talk to Eddie on his own,” she purred at Butch, pleased.

“Why don’t _you_ talk to him?” Butch asked grumpily.

“Me?” Barbara smiled and patted her hair, “I’m afraid that wouldn’t work, as there’s a good chance that he would fall madly in love with me.”

“You’re so full of it,” Tabby muttered, not without fondness. Barbara winked in response, and while she and Tabitha made eyes at each other, Butch sent up a quick prayer for strength, or possibly a well-placed lightning strike to put him out of his misery.

“Off you go,” Barbara cooed, giving Butch a none-too-gentle kick in the shins with her stiletto heel.

“Alright, alright...” Butch stood up, casting a glance at Tabby who just looked away, effectively telling him that he was on his own. So, he straightened his shoulders, gave the lapels of his jacket a neat tug, and went off to investigate Edward Nygma’s love life.

~~~~~

Butch caught Ed just as he flipped his cell phone shut and made to return to the couch. When Ed spun around to find Butch’s bulk blocking his path he stiffened, mouth pinching into a line and right hand moving closer to the pocket where Butch was pretty sure he kept a switchblade.

“Whoa, hoss,” Butch held up his hands, “Just came over to talk.”

“About?” Ed snapped impatiently.

“I wanted to ask, uh...how are things going for you?”

Ed froze with his mouth open, processing what Butch was saying. “You...want to know how I’m doing?”

“Yeah, I do,” Butch replied, a little aggressively, which didn’t exactly jive well with the intent of his question.

“I’m....well. And quite capable of carrying out my duties, if that’s what you’re implying,” Ed emphasized, body language still defensive.

“No, yeah, I’m sure,” Butch nodded, hands patting his sides as he seemed to search for something else to say before finally settling on, “So...how do you like living at the mansion?”

“It’s an improvement over Arkham,” Ed replied dryly.

“Er, yeah...” Butch stood there, blinking for a minute before continuing, “Still, though, it can be a bit lonely, I imagine, that big old place with all those empty rooms...good to have some _company_ , am I right?” Butch tried for a friendly, guys-talking-about-guy-stuff kind of grin, and probably managed something pretty close, but it was lost on Ed who just glared even more suspiciously at him.

“Are you...angling for an invitation to live at the mansion?” Ed finally concluded, wildly off-base.

“What?” Butch spluttered, “ _God_ no. I was just...I was just wondering if it was nice for you and Penguin to, uh, you know...keep each other _company_.” Butch once again emphasized the word “company,” but to a similar lack of success with communicating the double entendre.

“It’s convenient,” Ed answered sharply, “We can go over mayoral paperwork and administrative details together at any time of the day and cut down significantly on busywork at the office.”

“That’s _really_ not what I meant...” Butch tried to interject.

Ed stood up even straighter, looking affronted at something – what it was, Butch couldn’t imagine.

“Are you suggesting that my living at the mansion is somehow inappropriate?” Ed hissed.

“No!” Butch tossed his hands in the air, “Jesus, where are you even...I think it’s _nice_. You two together.”

“Yes, well, we do make an excellent professional team,” Ed agreed tersely.

“Professional...” Butch sighed. “Alright. I give up. This was a terrible idea.”

“I don’t know what your idea was, but I agree, it was terrible,” Ed sniped.

Butch didn’t reply, just walked away as quickly as he could without actually running. He felt a headache coming on.

“So...” Barbara drawled, swirling a fresh cocktail and shooting a coy smile at him, “How did it go?”

Butch answered by letting his forehead plunk down on the bar with a soft bang.

“That well,” Barbara droned. “You didn’t learn anything useful, I take it?”

“All that dude thinks about is work,” Butch mumbled from where his face was pressed against the smooth buffed wood, “It’s hopeless.”

Barbara made a show of pouting. “Well, that attitude isn’t going to get us anywhere. But, if you aren’t going to be my starter in this little game, maybe I’ll have to recruit some more players...” Barbara dragged Butch upright by his hair, ignoring his pained squawk as she asked with one of her signature poison-sweet smiles, “Didn’t you mention something the other week about vetting candidates for a housekeeper position at the mansion?”

~~~~~

“Hello!” Barbara trilled, sashaying into the kitchen at the mansion after slipping away from a meeting of the families taking place out in the parlor.

“Hello,” replied a stern-looking woman in an old-fashioned maid’s uniform with blonde hair piled high on her head. “Are you lost?” she asked, her words rolling out in a thick Russian accent.

“No, I’m actually here to see _you_ , Olga dear.” Barbara pointed one of her be-ringed fingers at the housekeeper and grinned a little wider when the sparkling jewel caught the woman’s eye. “My name’s Barbara, and I was hoping we could have a little chat about my dear friend, your boss, Ozzie.”

“Friend...” Olga drawled suspiciously, “I am thinking the mister mayor has only one friend. He wears much green and say strange things.”

“That’s Eddie to a T,” Barbara agreed, hopping up on the counter next to Olga and crossing her legs. “I guess I’m more one of Ozzie’s _work_ friends.”

“Do you kill people with the hairless man?” Olga asked plainly, arching one of her painted-black eyebrows.

“Oh, no, I don’t work with Zsasz,” Barbara assured her.

“Pity,” Olga sighed, “I like _him_. He appreciates my stroganoff.”

“I’m sure you’re an _excellent_ cook,” Barbara fawned, settling her hand carefully on her knee so that the ring glittered in the kitchen’s florescent light.

“That is nice ring,” Olga noted, eyes glued to the jewel.

“Why, thank you,” Barbara purred, “But I think...” she delicately pulled it off her finger and held it against the back of Olga’s hand, “Yes! It suits you _much_ better.”

Olga’s eyes flicked up to Barbara’s, then back down to the ring, which she snatched up without any further hesitation, jamming it onto her finger and giving it a pleased smile.

“There, now isn’t that nice?” Barbara re-crossed her legs, leaning in closer. “And now that we’re such good friends, I was wondering if I could ask you something...”

“Yes?”

“Have you noticed how the mayor seems to be, shall we say, _very_ fond of his chief of staff?”

“Mister Edward? Yes, he does like him very much.”

“And dear Eddie also seems to like Ozzie a great deal.”

Olga gave a vague shrug. “He is odd duck, that one. Hard to tell.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Barbara agreed, “Which is why it’s up to _us_ to help...nudge them along in the right direction.”

Olga stared at her, nonplussed.

“Since their communication skills are so lacking,” Barbara tried again, “they might need a little assistance bridging their relationship gap. We could help them see how much they really _care_ about each other. Do you understand?”

For a moment, Olga continued to look confused, but then comprehension dawned and she promptly burst into laughter. Barbara met this outburst with mild bewilderment.

“I’m not sure what’s so funny...” Barbara noted, smile tight.

“Oh, ha, you see...” Olga began to explain through lingering chuckles, “I was thinking you come here and try to use me to _poison_ my mister mayor. If you try this, I take your pretty ring and then turn you in to the big men with guns to take care of.”

“Ah,” Barbara coughed.

“But no, you come here as a....a...” Olga mimed firing a bow and Barbara clapped her hands happily and finished for her, “a cupid! Yes, exactly!”

“You are, how they say...a good egg, Miss Barbara,” Olga pronounced. “And do not worry – I have had ideas too, of how to get two dumdums into bed together already.”

“Wow,” Barbara looked impressed, “I was thinking maybe a date first, but...you don’t do anything half-way, do you?”

“I do not,” Olga sniffed, “I am _very_ good housekeeper.”

~~~~~

Ed was humming an old Sinatra tune under his breath as he washed the shampoo out of his hair, warm water pounding pleasantly down on his shoulders after a long day of work. The low creak of the bathroom door had him freezing stock still, eyes following the progression of a shadow that flitted across the shower curtain and then disappeared again with a soft swoosh. He stuck his head out of the spray just in time to see the tails of his bathrobe flying around the edge of the door.

With an indignant shout of “ _hey_!” Ed scrambled out of the shower, barely having the presence of mind to grab his towel and wrap it haphazardly around his waist as he pursued the robe-thief.

He crashed out of the bathroom, hot on the heels of –

“ _Olga_?” he sputtered, stumbling for a moment as he squinted at her, “What are you doing?”

“Clothes, so dirty!” Olga shouted over her shoulder, waving the robe like a battle flag, “So dirty! Filthy! Must be washed!”

“ _What_?” Ed squawked, thoroughly insulted.

“Bad clothes, can’t wear,” Olga insisted as she neared the stairs.

Ed realized she was almost out of reach and dived forward to continue the pursuit, so intent that he didn’t hear the distinctive uneven steps coming from the hallway to his right.

“What the hell is going on out here,” Oswald grumbled as he stomped around the corner, seconds before he smacked right into Ed’s bare chest.

“Oswald!” Ed gasped, flailing to pull the towel tighter around his waist and nearly dislodging it with his efforts, “I...I’m...”

“Naked,” Oswald filled in, sounding as if the oxygen was being forcefully evacuated from his lungs.

“An accurate assessment, yes,” Ed noted, hand lifting in an automatic nervous tic to adjust his glasses, which he of course found were not on his face, but back in the bathroom. “Olga apparently decided my bathrobe required immediate cleaning. Or, possibly, she just went mad.”

Oswald hmmed vaguely, swaying slightly on the spot.

“I should probably go and...not be naked,” Ed proposed cautiously.

“No!” Oswald burst out, quickly correcting himself, “I mean, _yes_ , being not naked is probably, um, a worthy goal, but uh, just stay...” He couldn’t seem to quite finish his rambling sentence, so in lieu of speaking he pulled the dressing gown from his own shoulders and handed it off to Ed.

“Oh! Thank you...” With a bit of struggle, Ed managed to maneuver the robe around himself without also dropping the towel that was protecting his last shred of dignity.

“Now that’s....better,” Oswald sighed, sounding rather like he didn’t believe his own words.

“It is,” Ed agreed, breathing deeply in the comfort of no longer being embarrassingly and unexpectedly nude in a drafty hallway. He smiled softly as he realized: “This smells like you.”

Oswald blinked, not sure how to react. “Oh...”

“It’s nice,” Ed assured him.

Oswald ducked his head to hide his grin. “Well, you look nice in it. It works with your...skin,” he finished, a little faintly.

“Um....” Ed sounded flustered, and if Oswald had dared look up, he’d have seen a slight blush creeping across Ed’s cheeks.

But he didn’t look up, he just threw a cut-off sort of wave in Ed’s direction and choked out, “Good night!” before scurrying away.

Ed stood there, rooted to the spot for another moment before clutching the robe tighter around himself and retreating to his room.

Olga, who’d been hiding at the top of the stairs ever since she heard the two run into each other, muttered a curse in Russian under her breath and began to make her way slowly back to the ground floor, Ed’s robe tossed dejectedly over her shoulder.

She tossed the (perfectly clean, naturally) article of clothing over the back of a kitchen chair and reached for her cell phone.

“So, how did it go?” came Barbara’s eager response as she picked up after barely half a ring.

“Meh. It looked good for minute, but then...” Olga sighed, “Mister Mayor give Edward clothes, and leave. Barely even peeks at naked boy.” Olga’s tone made it clear how deeply unimpressed she was with Oswald’s gentlemanly actions.

“Well, don’t blame yourself, honey,” Barbara consoled her, “You did your best.”

“Da,” Olga agreed, “I still cannot believe it not work. _But_ ,” Olga’s tone shifted from annoyed to conspiratorial, “I think I know a man to help us...”

~~~~~

“Oh, _absolutely_ ,” Zsasz enthused as Olga topped off his mug of coffee, “Count me in.”

“Me too,” one of the two women who’d accompanied Zsasz chimed in, quickly followed by the other’s, “Hell yeah.”

“I knew I could rely on you, Victor,” Olga smiled, patting the assassin’s hand, “And thank you ladies too...I forget, what are your names?”

“I’m Trixie,” the one with intricate braids and a thick scar bisecting her left eyebrow replied.

“And I’m Dixie,” the one with short, spiky blonde hair and two lip piercings said.

“Okay,” Olga responded simply, already accepting that she’d never remember which one was which.

“So,” Zsasz rubbed his hands together with excitement, “Did you have something in mind or do the girls and I get to think something up ourselves? You told me you gave them the old steal-the-bathrobe trick and got zilch – which is shocking, because that’s a real winner.”

“Thank you,” Olga said loftily, “I think so too. But apparently we must take more...direct action.”

“More direct than actual nudity....” Zsasz mused, propping his head up on his hand as he thought. He suddenly broke into a toothy grin and snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! The location is key. Some old hallway isn’t gonna cut it – if we wanna get them into bed, we’d better escort them there ourselves!”

“Explain,” Olga encouraged him, sounding interested.

The four all leaned in, Zsasz spelling out his plan in bursts as it came to him, “Okay so...first we turn Penguin’s bedroom into a nice little lovenest – candles and roses, the works – Olga, can you do that?”

“Da,” Olga agreed, scribbling notes to herself in Cyrillic on the back of a nearby receipt.

“Alright, then someone gets Eddie up to Penguin’s bedroom, preferably not wearing his usual cumbersome, suit ‘n vest combo. You think you gals can manage to pull a disappearing act on Ed’s clothes?” Victor smiled hopefully at his comrades.

Trixie cocked her head, “That depends...”

Dixie finished, “Do you want him to be conscious when we get him upstairs?”

Zsasz looked to Olga for direction, who replied, “Yes, being awake is essential.”

“Then...it’s unlikely,” Dixie admitted.

“But with a little elbow grease and minimal violence, I think we can at least get him down to socks and shirtsleeves,” Trixie appended.

“ _No_ violence, probably,” Olga amended, sounding just slightly regretful, “Or I think Mister Edward or Mister Mayor will have you killed.”

“True,” Zsasz noted mildly, “Well then...this whole non-violence thing will be something fresh and new for us, won’t it girls?”

“Sure thing, boss,” they agreed in sync.

“Okay, so you guys get him up there and in the bed – I’d suggest just tying him to the thing, but that might be something Penguin wants to do for himself.”

Trixie and Dixie nodded, as that sounded reasonable.

“Then all that’s left is getting Ozzie up there, which I can do, and bam! Our job is done.” Zsasz smiled broadly and threw out his hands like he’d just stuck the landing on a triple backflip.

“And if Oswald and Ed still do not understand...or they try to just leave...?” Olga pressed.

Zsasz thought for a moment before deciding, “Then we lock them in. Hopefully, if nothing else, after being trapped in there for a while, they’ll get bored enough to bang.”

“Gee, boss, you’ve got the soul of a romantic,” Trixie noted. Zsasz smiled back at her happily, either blissfully ignorant of her sarcasm or willfully ignoring it.

Olga nodded slowly. “If this plan not work...then I think the situation is hopeless.”

“Seriously,” Trixie agreed (or was it Dixie? Olga wondered).

“For real,” whichever one the other was concurred.

“Then let’s get this show on the road!” Zsasz declared, leaping to his feet.

“One last thing, for luck...” Olga rooted around in a cupboard for a moment before extracting a bottle of vodka and four glasses. She set them down and filled them with expert precision, scooting them in the direction of the team of assassins and then lifting her own.

“To true love,” she toasted.

“And a good fuck for the bossman,” Zsasz added.

“And for the bossman’s right hand man,” Dixie reminded them.

“And for the rest of us too, since we’re on the subject,” Trixie tacked on.

“Hear, hear!” they all chorused, tapping their glasses around and then downing their shots.

“Now, as Mister Zsasz says,” Olga swept away their glasses and fixed them all with a look befitting a general sending her soldiers to the front, “let us get show on road.”

~~~~~

“Hey, boss?” Zsasz chirped, knocking on the doorframe to the mansion’s parlor, where Oswald was poring over a pile of paperwork.

“What?” Oswald snapped without looking up.

“Can I talk to you a minute?”

“Yes,” Oswald growled, “get on with it.”

“I was actually hoping we could talk...in private.” Zsasz couldn’t repress a teasing grin.

Oswald finally glanced up. “We’re alone, Zsasz, how much more private do you want it?”

“A bit more, actually,” Zsasz admitted, stepping closer. “Come on, let’s get away from all this...whatever this is...” Zsasz flicked a hand disdainfully at the binders and folders scattering the table before Oswald.

Oswald rolled his eyes, but followed with only minor grumbling when Zsasz started tugging on his sleeve like an excited puppy begging its owner to go for a walk.

“Where are we going?” he sighed when they started going up the stairs.

“Just a quiet little spot,” Victor replied vaguely, leading him down the hall.

“This quiet little spot seems uncannily similar to my bedroom,” Oswald remarked as they reached the door to what was, unquestionably, his bedroom.

“Won’t you just come in for a moment?” Zsasz wheedled, grinning and lifting his nonexistent eyebrows.

“What are you– this is _my_ bedroom, you can’t invite me into _my own bedroom_! And what do you want...”

Oswald paused, mouth halfway open as he seemed to come to a tentative conclusion. “Oh...um...Victor, I don’t know what you were thinking might happen here, but–”

“Great things, hopefully. If they go well enough, maybe you’ll even give me a raise!” Zsasz winked before dragging Oswald bodily into the room.

Zsasz spun around proudly, gesturing to the empty bed and freezing when he realized that it was not filled with a certain lanky chief of staff.

Oswald just stayed glued to where Zsasz had left him, glancing with trepidation between Zsasz and the bed. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realized that the comforter was scattered with rose petals, and a variety of candles which certainly hadn’t been there earlier were burning merrily around the room.

“Well, that’s just...” Zsasz trailed off before popping forward, dropping to his knees to peek under the bedframe and then bouncing back up to start checking in the closet and behind the curtains.

Oswald, who seemed to be regaining his power of speech, said slowly, “Zsasz, er...Victor...what exactly are you doing?”

Zsasz turned around, hands on his hips and lips turned down in a pout. “Standing with you in an empty bedroom, apparently. There’s no one here!”

“No...” Oswald agreed cautiously, “There isn’t.”

“Exactly! So, clearly, this isn’t going to work,” Zsasz concluded with a regretful shrug.

“That’s what I was trying to say before,” Oswald replied with palpable relief.

“I’ll just go then,” Zsasz said, already returned to his natural good cheer.

“Uh huh...” Oswald murmured faintly, sinking slowly down to sit on a nearby loveseat as Zsasz marched off.

Thundering down the stairs, Zsasz began to search for his MIA associates and their enigmatic cargo. He stuck his head through the door of the kitchen before throwing his whole body into the room upon spotting them, pointing dramatically. “Aha! There you are!” The pair of women along with Edward looked up as one from the newspaper they were all entranced with.

“Where were you?” he demanded of his colleagues, crossing his arms.

“Um, here?” Trixie offered up with a slight wince.

“We were _going_ to come up,” Dixie tried to explain, “but Edward was doing the crossword.”

“Yes, and we just wanted to help out.”

“I knew the one about John Philip Sousa,” Dixie told Zsasz proudly.

“You sacrificed our whole.... _meeting_....” Zsasz hissed with a mindful glance at Ed, who was mostly ignoring their little spat in favor of continuing to muse over the paper, “for a _puzzle_?”

“It’s the Sunday one,” Trixie replied seriously, as if that would explain everything.

“Those ones are so difficult your brain could literally catch on fire if you work on it too long,” Dixie added earnestly.

“Well, I think the spontaneous combustion of your cerebral matter is unlikely,” Ed finally cut in, still not looking up from his puzzle, “but headaches are not an uncommon result.”

“Unbelievable,” Zsasz shook his head, pouting, “I’m the only one here who believes in love.”

“Love?” Ed asked sharply, head snapping up and crossword abruptly abandoned.

“Well, Zsasz was just up in Oswald’s bedroom,” Dixie clarified helpfully before Trixie could elbow her in the ribs and hiss, “it’s a secret, remember!”

Ed went a rather shocking color of white before beginning to flame red. “You...” he turned to Zsasz with a dangerously combustible mixture of confusion, shock, and rage on his face.

“Relax, Nygma!” Zsasz reassured him, holding his hands up, “There was nothing untoward...” Zsasz paused as a thought occurred to him, and he switched tack, “Despite my best efforts.”

“I see,” Ed bit out, the red fading from his face but the anger still fresh in his eyes, “I was unaware you and Oswald had... _that_ sort of relationship.”

“We don’t, exactly...but can you blame me for trying?” Zsasz tossed a saucy wink at Ed, who didn’t seem to know quite what to do with it.

“So you two...you aren’t...”

“Alas,” Zsasz splayed a hand across his chest, “I think his heart belongs to another. Whatever shall I do without him –” Trixie cut off his theatrics with a pointed cough, and he reeled in his more dramatic side to say simply, “I’ll just have to keep trying. Unless, of course, someone _else_ makes a move...”

Ed’s expression seemed caught between pensive and murderous as his gaze dropped down to his own fists, clenched tight on the tabletop.

Zsasz took the opportunity to grin and throw the girls a thumbs up, which they subtly echoed, scooting around the table from Ed to join him.

“Well, I’d better go and find some lonely watering hole where I can drown my sorrows...” Zsasz trailed off mournfully, one eye watching Ed for his reaction.

“Yes, you’d best leave,” Ed snapped, rising to his feet with a glimmer of cold, collected fury still visible beneath the surface of his composure. “I have a great deal of work to do.”

And with that, Ed stalked out of the room.

Mouth dropping open in shock at the utter and complete failure of what he’d thought to be a foolproof plan, Zsasz peered out to watch Ed throw some papers in a briefcase and then stride out the front door.

Olga materialized behind Zsasz and the girls, grumbling loudly, “I think not even a bullet would get through that thick skull of his.”

Zsasz and co. jumped slightly at the housekeeper’s stealthy approach, before agreeing with a round of nods.

“I mean, I could _try_ the bullet thing...” Dixie offered.

“A nice thought, dear, but no, I think not,” Olga replied, giving her arm a friendly squeeze.

“Even the direct-est of direct approaches isn’t enough,” Zsasz marveled, almost impressed at the staggering depths of Ed and Oswald’s obliviousness.

“To be fair, we kinda messed up our end,” Trixie admitted.

“Nah,” Zsasz shrugged, throwing an arm around each of the girls, “Given how Ed reacted to me making a move on his guy – I mean, he didn’t even threaten to disembowel me or anything – he probably wouldn’t have gotten the message in Ozzie’s bedroom either.”

“He might have gone on a tangent about the botanical genealogy of roses,” Dixie mused.

“And said the candles were a fire hazard,” Trixie agreed.

“Maybe even said something about how he and Ozzie should be at work,” Zsasz cringed.

“Maybe it is good that plan did not turn out,” Olga concluded, reaching for her phone and dialing Barbara.

Barbara picked up immediately and, in lieu of any pleasantries, just asked, “Did it work?”

“Unfortunately....no,” Olga sighed.

Barbara’s groan was audible to Zsasz and the girls through the speakers. “Oh my god. What else can we even do?”

Olga had to pull the phone away from her ear as Tabby shouted on the other end of the line, “ _Christ, Babs, who even cares?_ ”

“ _I_ care!” Barbara shouted back, “It’s become a matter of pride, now!”

“Yeah! We’ve made an investment, see,” Butch’s voice added to the fray.

“You’re on _her_ side now? What the hell, Butch!” Tabby screeched.

“I think I will call you back,” Olga interrupted delicately, before hanging up on the sound of Barbara volleying back something that had Zsasz and Trixie both going to cover Dixie’s ears.

“She’s pretty sheltered,” Trixie explained when Olga raised her eyebrow.

“You know, for an assassin,” Zsasz shrugged.

Olga just shook her head. “I think it is time for you to go. You have done your best,” she assured them when they all slumped sadly, “But now all we can do is watch and wait.”

They nodded in melancholy acquiescence and began to shuffle away.

“I will let you know of any development,” Olga tried to comfort them as she shepherded them to the door.

“You’re a real trooper, Olga,” Zsasz said seriously as they left, “If you ever decide to join the assassination business...”

“A nice offer, but my aim hasn’t been the same since fight with Bratva in ninety-two.”

“Bratva?” Zsasz perked up, “What did –”

“A story for another time,” Olga cut him off with an cryptic smile, before gently closing the door on him and the girls.

~~~~~

“Now, see, you just go up to Ozzie and...”

“No! Oh my _god_ , no,” Butch cut off Barbara’s gentle wheedling as they stood in the hallway of Penguin’s mansion, having just left a meeting with him and Ed. Tabby stood nearby, tapping her foot impatiently. Whatever humor she’d found in watching Babs and Butch’s conniving had long since worn off and morphed into a mean, acidic kind of anger. But under that anger, what Tabby really wanted was for her two best friends to stop caring about other people’s lives, and start paying attention to their own again. Or, specifically, start paying attention to _her_ again.

“But it will _definitely_ work,” Barbara continued in coaxing tones, having no luck convincing Butch to help out in whatever harebrained scheme she was on now, “and Eddie’s a lamb, he probably won’t even try and stab you, and even if he did, you know his little pocket knife would probably only nick you...”

“ _No_ ,” Butch put his foot down, “I’m telling you, we should just do what I say. A little something in their coffee, they’re out like a light, we put ‘em on a plane and they wake up in Hawaii –”

“I wish you’d send me to Hawaii,” Tabitha grumbled.

“Tabby, darling,” Barbara simpered, “If you’re not going to be useful, why don’t you wait in the car?”

Tabby’s fist snapped back in fury, splintering the leg of an innocent wooden side-table that had the misfortune of standing too close. “I’m not gonna go _sit in the car_ like a damn _kid_ while you keep trying to pull – whatever the hell it is you’re trying to pull!”

Barbara and Butch both tried to reply at once, but Tabby raged over them.

“I am done with this, _all_ of this. It’s so damn _stupid_ , and I’m going to do what I said we should do in the _first place_.”

She stormed off with one last scorching glare, which would have been enough to have Butch and Barbara fairly concerned for the safety of the house’s occupants (themselves included), but then they spotted her pulling out her firearm at the end of the hallway.

“Uh oh,” Butch breathed at the same time as Barbara said, “ _shit_.”

“Wasn’t her original plan to, uh...” Butch trailed off and Barbara nodded sharply. They exchanged a look, and then both took off after Tabby.

“Hey, you two idiots,” Tabby called as she rounded the corner and stepped briskly into the mansion’s sitting room, handgun glinting in the afternoon sunshine streaming through the window.

“What?” Edward growled without looking up, while Oswald glanced indifferently in her direction, and then back at Ed, before snapping back towards Tabitha, flinging himself to his feet.

“ _What_ are you...what is the meaning of this?” Oswald shouted, instantly furious. Ed rose slowly to stand beside him, hands twitching for a weapon, but none were within his reach.

“I am through with this crap,” Tabitha explained bitingly, “So here’s the deal. You two absolute numbskulls are gonna kiss each other, right here and now, or I’m gonna blow your brains out.”

There was a beat of silence before Oswald choked out, “Excuse me?” just moments before Ed said evenly, “Okay.”

Oswald did a double take at Ed, like he couldn’t quite believe his ears. But a moment later, it wasn’t just his ears’ input that he had to put stock in, because Ed reached gently forward to grasp his face and pull him into a soft, tender kiss.

“About fucking time,” Tabby snarled under her breath.

“Da,” Olga agreed, making Tabby jump. The housekeeper was leaning against the dining table to Tabby’s left, looking entirely unconcerned by Tabitha’s violent overtures towards her employers. In fact, she looked quite pleased.

Oswald and Ed pulled apart, Ed with a nervous grin, and Oswald with a distinctly dazed expression.

“Wow,” Oswald whispered, “That was...you...you kissed me.”

“It seemed...prudent,” Ed concluded.

“Oh...I see...” Oswald went a little pale, “So you...you did that because otherwise we were going to be shot to death in our own house?”

“Well, partially,” Ed admitted with a cavalier shrug, “But mostly, I just thought that there was no way I was going to die without knowing what it’s like to kiss you. And besides...” Ed’s grin grew and he lilted forwards till his nose nearly touched Oswald’s, “what a way to go.”

Oswald just sort of squeaked at that, before throwing his arms around Ed’s neck and dragging him down for a longer, deeper kiss.

“Gross,” Tabby sighed, finally holstering her gun.

Butch and Barbara, who’d been peeking around the corner with their own weapons ready in case Tabitha had just started a war with the leader of Gotham’s underworld, looked on in stunned amazement.

“Aw, man!” Zsasz’ disappointed voice sounded behind them. The assassin’s waltz lacked its usual flair as he came into the room flanked by Dixie and Trixie, saying, “I can’t _believe_ I missed it.”

“Do not worry, friends,” Olga called, holding up her phone, “I record all of it.”

“You’re a real pal, Olga!” Zsasz crowed, bounding over with the girls and looking eagerly over her shoulder as she pressed play on the phone and the room’s occupants were treated to a low-rez recording of Tabby’s irritated voice demanding that Ed and Oswald kiss or die.

Ed and Oswald took no notice of their audience, too enveloped in each other. Even when they pulled apart enough to breathe, they just gazed into each other’s eyes, like there was nothing else in the world that could possibly matter in that moment.

Tabby made a disgusted noise and turned to Barbara, crossing her arms, “See? It’s like I said, now they’re even _more_ unbearable.”

“Not necessarily,” Butch interjected, taking a cautious step forward. “Hey, boss?”

“What?” Oswald sighed dreamily, not tearing his gaze away from Edward.

“Mind if I have the rest of the day off?”

“Sure, whatever,” Oswald murmured, “Actually...take the next few days off. I won’t be needing you, I think my chief of staff and I will be... _very busy_.” He and Edward began to giggle, and Tabby decided it was definitely time to leave.

“Let’s go make use of this free time,” she grumbled as she took Barbara and Butch by the arms and dragged them from the room, “we worked hard enough for it.”

“I can’t believe that in the end, _she_ was the one to do it,” Zsasz wondered, watching Tabby leave with her partners in tow.

“She is a woman not to be trifled with,” Olga concurred, tone full of respect.

“It was a great idea,” Trixie said, reaching over Olga’s shoulder to hit the replay button and watch the drama unfold again.

“Yeah, _we_ should have thought of it,” Dixie said, “I mean, really, we spend every day sticking guns in people’s faces to get what we want.”

Zsasz lit up with inspiration and he said, “Hey, girls, maybe we could add something to our menu of services!”

“Assassination and matchmaking do go together, like peanut butter and jelly,” Trixie agreed dryly.

“I think that maybe this was special circumstance,” Olga tried to point out gently.

“I dunno,” Dixie shook her head, “I think a lot of romances could be improved by death threats.”

“Or maybe, most death threats could be improved by romance,” Zsasz offered, looking dreamily into space.

“Well, we should probably be off,” Trixie sighed fondly, grabbing Dixie and Zsasz by the elbow, not unlike how Tabby had escorted her comrades off minutes earlier, “I think we’ll be spending the afternoon adding ‘part-time cupid’ to our business cards.”

“Could we actually though?” Dixie asked excitedly as they left.

Olga smiled at the trio’s retreating backs before turning to her enamored employers, who were murmuring quietly to each other, ensconced in the circle of each other’s arms and ignoring everything outside of that.

“Mister Mayor, Mister Edward,” she interrupted, tone business-like, “Will you two canoodle all day, or sit down for dinner I make you?”

“We’ll be there in a moment,” Oswald sighed, not even turning to look at the spread Olga had set out on the table before the theatrics had begun.

Olga heaved a sigh and waited while the two made their slow way over, bumping into furniture when they refused to properly let go of each other.

“You know,” Oswald blushed slightly as he sat down next to Ed, “I could never have predicted this morning that we’d be sitting down to this meal tonight as...as...”

“A couple?” Ed finished softly.

“Yes,” Oswald gushed, taking Ed’s hand and squeezing it.

Olga couldn’t hold back a disbelieving snort at that, making Ed’s head snap around to her with a withering glare. “Do you have something to say?” he asked sharply, but Olga didn’t bat an eye, just swung around him to begin serving the meal.

“I see that you two were destined to be from start,” she announced, “I know these things.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” Olga confirmed, “In fact, I already bought nice hat for your wedding.”

Oswald let out a surprised laugh at that while Ed rolled his eyes, disbelieving as he muttered, “Oh, please.”

But as they happily shared their first meal together as an official couple, Olga detoured to her room and opened her closet, pulling down a box and lifting out a silky pink wide-brimmed hat. She tried it on in front of the mirror and chuckled to herself, “I wonder if we will be needing Miss Tabitha and her gun for the proposal, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Olga brings Zsasz, Trixie, and Dixie all as her dates to the wedding, definitely. 
> 
> Leave me a comment and let me know what you thought! <3


End file.
